Warm hands, red hair, tight waistcoats, happy smiles then, without preamble, Dwayne was back in shackles in the basement of his own Tower. Groaning, he sat up.

  Click. “You’re awake.”

  Dwayne glared at Bruce who was sitting behind the cabinet, flipping through a notebook, Na’cch lying in her lap. “You waited?”

  “Hardly. My adjustments to the sedative are complete.” She snapped her notebook closed. “I knew exactly when you’d wake. It’s time for you to decide.” She nodded to the girl who placed two cups in front of Dwayne. “The cup on the right will keep you sedated for three days. The cup on the left will take four hours to take effect then keep you sedated for twenty hours.”

  “Why four?”

  “That’s plenty of time for you to make a start on the project,” said Bruce. “Your choice?”

  There wasn’t one. Dwayne pointed at the left.

  Bruce smiled. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “I’d rather not give you time to consider my death.”

  “As you say. Clay, collect the other one.”

  Clay. As Dwayne picked up the cup, he recalled the list of pseudonyms the late Orlaith Jung had given Mei. Bruce’s was Granite, Huan’s Sky, and Clay belonged to a roofrunner named Sioned. He took the pill.

  “Excellent. You can start with these.” She handed her notes and a pair of charcoal sticks to Sioned who entered the tytumber array and handed them over to Dwayne. “I expect a methodology by this time tomorrow.”

  She left, taking Na’cch with her and leaving Dwayne with Sioned.

  Dwayne opened the notebook and scowled. These were his own notes, only with some scrap paper added.

  “Why did you thank me, before?” asked Sioned.

  “Back when I cleaned feces and urine everyday, I would have loved to have someone thank me.” These notes were useless. He already knew how to make a core: nQeanum, nQerikwem, and the core spell, all cast at the same time. He should focus on escaping. “It’s not fun.”

  “Liar. You’re a nob.”

  Dwayne closed his eyes. “You’ve seen the scars on my back.” Today, the ripples were stronger and the tytumber in the boxes looked different. “Do ‘nobs’ have whipping scars?”

  “But…I thought that were a story you lot made up.”

  That earned her a glare. “Who makes up being a slave?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Sioned opened her mouth, said nothing, then shut it.

  Sighing, Dwayne closed his eyes again. Perhaps he could measure the ripples, their speed or the length between them. Not now however, the former was too high and the latter too short. He’d need to slow them down.

  Opening his eyes, he chose a spot over a brazier behind Sioned’s seat and summoned up Magdala’s smile when he got out of here. Ri’a’tha. Nothing happened, but that was expected. Ri’a’tha. He still needed a plan. Ri’a’tha. Knowing where he was meant he had options if he managed to get outside, but he had no idea if there were guards up there waiting. Ri’a’tha. Fighting one Sen Jerome cenobite would be hard, fighting two or more would be impossible, not without killing them. Ri’a’tha. Perhaps he should just hole up here and try to signal for help. Ri’a’tha. Regardless, he’d need to deal with the tytumber.

  Still casting, he took sketches of the current batch of crystals and drew diagrams of the ripples.

  Then his stomach grumbled. “Is there food?”

  “Oh, right.” Sioned brought him a cup and something oblong and wrapped in paper. “Here.”

  Dwayne stared at the wrap. “Where did you get this?”

  “The Ma-” Sioned clamped her mouth shut. “Don’t try to trick me, nob.”

  Dwayne hadn’t been. “Thanks.” He drained the cup.

  “Don’t thank me neither.”

  “Stop doing things for me,” Dwayne peeled the paper off the wrap, “and I’ll stop thanking you.”

  He bit into the wrap and nearly forgot to cast Ri’a’tha. Inside were eggs and onion, a blend of familiar spices and herbs, combined with a soft sweet cheese and a sausage from Sanford’s own stores. Only one person could have made this.

  He’d been found.

  “Are you okay?”

  “You can’t be nice to me,” Dwayne wiped tears off his face, “and expect me not to thank you.”

  Sioned scowled then returned to her seat.

  Dwayne finished most of the wrap before he saw what was written on the inside of the paper.

  “Hey, you want some?” He offered up the wrap’s end. “It’s way better than porridge.”

  Sioned shook her head, but her eyes didn’t leave the glistening eggs and cheese.

  “Are you sure? It tastes really good. It has onion and sausage and-”

  “Fine.” Sioned snatched the wrap out of the paper and returned to her seat. “If it makes you stop talking.”

  As she devoured the food, Dwayne re-read the words written in Rodion’s precise handwriting: “Are you there?”

  Dwayne wrote his answer, crumpled up the paper and put it in the cup. “It’s good, right?”

  “I won’t thank you.”

  “I admire your consistency.”

  Rodion would go get Magdala, Mei, and Lady Pol then they’d come and rescue Dwayne.

  Ri’a’tha. A brief connection then nothing. Too bad.

  He still had to buy time. If he didn’t make any progress, Bruce would kill him, and all Magdala and the others would rescue was a dead body. Perhaps, he could fabricate a methodology-

  Over the target brazier and a hand span right of center, a candle flame winked into existence. His magic had gone through.

  Sioned frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking.” Dwayne smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to be a mage, would you?” Sioned shook her head. “Pity.”

  Ri’t. The candle flame didn’t go out. Oh, no.

  Sioned narrowed her eyes. “What now?”

  He couldn’t let her see. “Do you think Bruce would accept using spell reverberations originating from a physical barrier to modify the timings of spell castings as a viable methodology?”

  Sioned scowled. “I just said I’m no mage.”

  “Ah, right, sorry.” The candle light finally went out. “Just thinking aloud.”

  Dwayne closed his eyes. The ripples were now crawling across his vision. He tried to open them again, but lethargy held them shut.

  “You should press the button.”

  “Why?”

  Dwayne couldn’t. He’d fallen into the dark.